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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22836931">Horizon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_T/pseuds/Green_T'>Green_T</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hermitcraft RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Angst, Friendship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 14:41:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,840</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22836931</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_T/pseuds/Green_T</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-calm before the storm,  Leviathan is friends with Tripwire,  Tripwire is friends with Puzzler.   Things go awry.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Ocean</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Hey levia?" He looks back to his friend. He was helping trip dig out more tunnels in his abandoned mine shaft to accommodate for a new misdirection system to lead to his friends pet collection, as much as he loved his friend his choice in pets was disturbing. Trip stood behind him with a torch and some smooth stone he was laying into the floors, he has a blank look on his face but his eyes spoke of curiosity and questions. Trip wasn't incredibly expressive but they had grown together speaking in body language. Back when they couldn't speak it was the only way to send a message.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"what's up?" Turning to swing his pick down into the gravel before him he rolls his shoulder forward in encouragement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Have you ever thought about what the older shadows can do?" Trip smooths down a corner in the brickwork.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What do you mean by that? they can do everything we can basically, no?"  They were all Shadows through and through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> "I mean the powers, the extra strength they have from doing combat with their summoners for longer or dieing a lot more than us."  He makes a decent point, their only differences are in time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> "true. Shadoc has blown a few of my gadgets up when I was talking to him. Didn't seem to like them much, don't know what's up with that."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah... So I know that at least a few other shadows can do stuff like that, and some of them are really wacky. One of them I heard has a habit of hunting random shadows and hermits down. Do you have any plans if that happens?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"hhhhmmmmmm, I say fuck it. If they mess with me? I can come back and keep doing whatever I want anyways, the only person that can stop me doing stuff is Doc and I can trick him any day."  He was tough in his own rights.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He sits in the control room of his labyrinth, fiddling slowly with switches and running small diagnostics on his defense systems.  He dug this place out very early into his sentience and as time goes on the place has slowly expanded to store more items and have more room for newer crazier redstone builds.  Like the slime catapult near the surface that he had Robin test out, that was a fun day. He wanders over to one of his trap storage drawers and opens up the storage door to look at what options he has for next week's run with Trip.  The plan was to keep Murmur distracted long enough for Trip to make the concrete machine dye everything pink. It was a more harmless prank but it keeps everyone on their toes and isn't that just life?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sits a heap in a nearby chair, a small smug smile on his face. Surrounded by cold stone and earth he watches his friend catch his breath and start wheezing in laughter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh that was PERFECT! The look on his face when you tripped him down that hill to where I was, PRICELESS! pbffffffhahahah" They had just spent their afternoon playing mind games on Doc again. Even after all their time and tricks His friends summoner would fall for the same thing every time. One look and a grin and he would follow his shadow into any trap. He was weak willed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Man nothing better then getting him riled up. He got covered in mud his coat? ruined. Absolutely hilarious." His friend could go on like this for hours after a good prank. They haven't hung out much this month, he was busy more often than not with his other responsibilities and Leviathan was still chasing after his summoners other shadow. Normally he wouldn't be that excited, they always end up hanging out no matter what but seeing his friend so excited over one of their more simple pranks makes it seem like this is a special occasion, they should hang out more often. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"mhmm. He has bad balance." he pipes in slightly when Leviathan pauses for him with a motion. They sit and talk about the days and think of even better crazy schemes for next time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>The two of them are sitting in the lounge room of his base, weighted blankets scattered around and oddly no redstone or gadgets in sight, this room used to be filthy with small projects before he cleared it out for Shadocs sake.  His friend couldn't handle the click and clack of machines s close and more often than not ended up detonating them. So he made this room as cozy and redstone free and possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Levia, sing a song.” He snorts and the request and thinks through his list of best badass songs, or perhaps something funny.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>I've tried, tried, tried, and i've tried even more, I've cried, cried, cried, and I can't recall what for, I've pressed, i've pushed, i've yelled, i've begged, In hopes of some success, But the inevitable fact is that it never will impress!  I've no more fucks to give, My fucks have runeth dry, I've tried to go fuck shopping but there's no fucks left to buy! I've no more fucks to give, Though more fucks i've tried to get, I'm over my fuck budget, and i'm now in fucking debt!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Levia. While that's nice and all.  You have got to know some other songs then Rock, Folk, and whatever that was.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Noooooope! Only those here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dare you to, sing something of a different genera, like classical or something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“... Fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leviathan frowned mid song, he hated bets like this but Trip would never let it go if he didn't. Besides, this song wasn't bad, just not his style. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"lagoon, too soon, to leave the lagoon. Lagoon, too soon, to leave the lagoon. Lagoon, too soon, to leave the lagoon. Lagoon, too soon, to leave the lagoon. Lagoon, too soon, to leave the lagoon. all the pearls and bitter blood belong to yesterday." Mid twirl he stills pointing at a smug Trip with a wicked look in his own eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm so pissed at you I hope you know that, I keep my singing PG you ass." He keeps dancing to his dare of a song, if he has to do this he is gonna do it right dammit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not like you haven't done worse Levia. I caught you singing despacito." The gall of this man he swears.  Those are sacred moments never to be mentioned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lagoon, I did it for the meme Trip the meme!, to soon-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sees the vast empty waves before anything else, a splash in the black ocean. He lets it wash over him as his guttural forum wripples and shines with all his strength and instinct. He sees as the world shakes kicking up waves and flashes of lightning. It's a comforting sight in the darkness. He long ago blotted out the stars here to further the darkness. It was an act of impulse, he wanted to see the flashes of lightning more clearly. A call to his mirror and a roar for his brother. Of past lighting and the need to protect. The life of something small growing far beyond its means to take up arms and fangs to give strength to what was changed. His tail skins the water sending out wripples along the waves that magnify into tsunamis against the shores of his mind. Sured up defences and confidence of sight and of heart, gut feelings and motivations. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Survival of the fittest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Standing wistless among blacked out stars, weaving patterns of greys and yellows flashing whites and splatters of unknown arrays flash beneath his skin. The ocean below him stands an abyssal black the horizon stretched vast and wide blank and desolate. The only color here is seeping from himself in the vast calm sea of his power. He looks at his reflection in the black depths, it's him undoubtedly. Hair pulled back in a spiked short ponytail, sharp claws. For some reason he knows this body isn't his. He stands perfectly still on the surface, his balance must be perfect else he will sink. His skin wripples with color shifting, his forum inconsistent. From him to this not him. A tail and fins wrapping in and out of the fabrics of this reality. They aren't his. He has no fins, his tail is small. This is him but also not him but he stands perfectly still. If he sinks he will be a monster. He knows this so instinctually but he doesn't understand why. He was with Trip in his base laying around when a spider showed up. That's what he remembers at least. He wobbles, his skin flares and colors burst to life his limbs changing. He balances out with a wobble. He stands in the monotone sea and stares into the night sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't remember that dream in a waking sleep. A warning perhaps.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Dawn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sun</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trip sits on a hardy oak countertop. The room was minimalist and to a certain theme, oak supports holding up the lumbering earth like an atlas played in reverse. Work benches and furnaces tucked away in a corner while a nice dining table with a bright red table cloth sat with miss matched chairs. His home was vast and sprawling with many rooms nearly identical to this one. However this one got more attention to detail. Small nooks in the walls and texture of bricks and more fanciful architecture. He swings his legs back and forth taking in the stale underground air he needs not breath. Today he has had 5 arachnid related incidents alone and one tunnel collapse in the West wing of the lowest layer in his complex. He doesn't mind as this chaos has been a daily part of life since those first days with the snapping jaws of distractions and the sparks of the fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits along a wall in his home, his safe place. Things went very very badly today. He may have just ruined everything. He had asked Puzzler a few days ago to see if he could convince Levia to join the Empire and give him a gift. He wanted his best friend to be safe and at his side, he wanted him to be free from his summoner and anything that could stop him from being happy and reaching his goals. He knew all Leviathan wanted was freedom, he didn't want to be held back by anyone or anything. He was wild and wonderful and untamed. He told Puzzler all these things, everything he knew about his best friend in the hopes it would be convincing enough. It wasn't, his friend threw away the chance and the offer. He didn't comprehend it at first, it would mean he could do whatever he wanted without Doc being able to stop him. Now he understands that while it would mean absolute freedom from his summoner it would be a chain tying him to Puzzler. It would be like harnessing a wild horse and expecting it not to kick. He is fine with following his friends lead. Puzzler is his friend and he trusts him. Leviathan does not have the same ties. He hopes puzzler doesn't hold a grudge. He doesn't know which side he would pick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Legs shift and shuffle down the halls, vast sweeping rooms void of life void of sound. No words are spoken here, the feeling of knowing all around you so deeply that sound is unneeded. No fear that would need the hum of comfort to sooth. The walls are grey and dead but this place pulses with a single life. Yellow strings crawl and lick between the stone an interlocked network of knowing, of understanding, of seeing. Nothing here is unknown but it's vastness speaks of unknowable lengths. How far can a consciousness spread before it's too thin to comprehend? Or is a vastness of such true knowledge? He doesnt know for sure. He knows where he is but he understands that he can be everywhere. If only he pushed himself that far. Then maybe everyone else would understand. The strings pull back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Skys</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Puzzler sits high atop his towers, tier and tiers of perfectly constructed magnificence. The highest of luxurys and vast sprawling city scapes. His Empire was great, he spent lots of time perfecting every detail and bringing it up to his standards. It was somewhat a waste of time in the scene of things but it was prideful and perfect enough to be satisfactory. No beckons and calls to keep moving forward. Just hums of vanity and judgement. Flickering eyes looking behind him towards his friend who settles onto a plush duvet by some potted vegetation. He can see his friends strings bright as day slithering across the floors and combing the earth and walls for chunks and chunks. They were both naturally on guard, on watch. Tripwire made sure nobody would come without notice and he himself had constant vigilance wherever a part of him may lay. They sit for many hours in a comfortable silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wings spread flat, leaning against a wall. It's useless like this, you cannot fly with wings splayed flat. It's harder to see with eyes set face to stone. But that's alright because what lies before the world does not need to be seen. This moment needs no witness, needs not be shared. It's loud and angry and cacophonous but it's a moment stamped in time. Life moves forward and things will always change. Things can be better or worse. He will stay moving in his singular direction. Path laid before him wall behind constantly pushing forward. If he stops he will sit here for eternity wings splayed flat. If he moves he can run and fly toward the sun. Tomorrow time will be different, he never has to walk this path alone. The Sun is a silent offer of endless courage and strength. The wall may screech and bellow but the path ahead lays silent and knowing, comforting. Wings spread out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Horizon</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fog dripping over empty wastes like a humid bog, a fallen crumbled cove scattered in rubble and lost battles and bitter victories. He stands up rising and falling out of space. He can feel every movement every twitch. It's quiet, it's still.  He knows this waste as a thing of his creation. Unbridled rage and destruction for the sake of hell and fun, but one step closer to a larger goal. The soft feeling of sea mist and the burning spray of water. He hates this, the battlefield is empty, no more fun to be had, drifting in and out of his memories and thoughts. He knows he was home mere moments ago but now it feels as if he's stuck in the past, overanalyzing what has passed when he could be feeling through Redstone bits and complex feelings. This place is muted in color and he hates this. Water should not run and this fog will spread and wipe clean the slate. He feels like he should know this place. Be proud of what happened here but bitter at the costs. At the small failures and the existence of any structure before him. The fog hides the ruin.  A glowing horizon red with rage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Depths</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reverberating pulses of power at a price, the waves crashing past him at any show of life.  Wiping away any emotion into a whirlpool of stormy destruction. Ripping away everything and shredding him down to his very fiber leaving behind only the raw ragged emotion and instinct beneath.  The need to fight or flee, giving hold to a new form with claws and teeth fins and a horrible </span>
  <b>scream</b>
  <span>.  Things will never be the same ahead of here.  He doesn't understand</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't understand at all,  the water is him and all he is.  Is he only his strength? Would only his strength be left with everything pulled away.  If so, how much is he? With his dull claws and his scales, he lacks the lightning and the storm of his brother.  He wishes he was more. He is more here though, the monotone world around him shows ferocity and strength and gargantuan spite.  Stubborn beasts made of strength and fear. A true hurricane to carry any storm across its waves. What lies beneath his surface and will it be enough to protect his friends?  What about Tripwire, Shadoc, Solo, even Clamour. Will he be enough to keep them safe? Why would he need to? Nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He washes away more everyday, the arguments and the fights.  He wishes everything would be okay. That wings wouldn't loom above him in the skys between himself and the Sun,  a murky Horizon like a fire ready to lash out and swallow the day. He Wakes up in a field alone with phantom pains of limbs that don't exist, so many missing parts of himself that he cannot name, he should go check on Trip...</span>
</p>
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